


Let us prey

by MystikSpiral



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Villain Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:02:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1738946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MystikSpiral/pseuds/MystikSpiral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First it’s an arm covered in tattoos that reaches down to pick something from up off of the floor, then Tony reacts with the smallest of noises. He’s prey now, and the man in black boots knows it. Tony can tell by the smirk that’s flashes at him from the side of the bed, and his peering eyes. </p>
<p>“I knew you were here before you even made a noise.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let us prey

**Author's Note:**

> *shurgs* I don't even know if this will have possible future plot I honestly just needed to get this out of my system. Steve is the leader of a group of murderers and robbers, villain!Steve fuckery pretty much.
> 
> Thank you [Morphia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/pseuds/morphia) for being a fantastic beta. Also thank you [starkspangledfondue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/starkspangledfondue) for bouncing back and forth ideas with me, as usual (protip: read their hella rad fics).

A sharp yelp wakes Tony up. He recognizes his mother pitch but has never heard it so shrill. Another voice is heard but it's deep. It isn’t his father's, and it isn’t anyone familiar. He can’t quite make out what’s being said. That doesn’t stop his heart from hammering in his chest. He figures maybe he’s just being paranoid.

The footsteps come again, heavy boots hitting hardwood floor and murmurs, only this time it’s  a female. Tony slowly pulls himself out of bed, making sure even the lightest of creaks are inaudible. Tony wants to find a place to hide that won’t leave the pattering of his footsteps exposed, he opts for the space under his bed.

The guest room door opens, more footsteps and knocking against the wall. He’s sweating now, not profusely, just enough to coat along his brow. He’s shaking uncontrollably however, trembling to the point where he’s afraid whoever is in his house will know. They’ll be like an animal, predatory and smelling the fear off of him. The brunet shuts his eyes, figuring if he couldn’t see what was coming it would lessen the feeling of his heart dropping into his stomach. It doesn’t work, it actually makes things worse, darkness somehow makes the voices louder.

Just as he opens his eyes little by little, his room's door opens with ease. He hears the squeak of the hinges and briefly wonders why they never got around to fixing it. His attention is quickly fixates on the black boots trudging on his rug. Tony holds his breath. He’s already curled up and pressed close to the wall, hoping that if he can stop himself from taking in gulps of air to calm himself, that he’ll be safe.

He’s wrong.

First it’s an arm covered in tattoos that reaches down to pick something from up off of the floor, then Tony reacts with the smallest of noises. He’s prey now, and the man in black boots knows it. Tony can tell by the smirk that’s flashes at him from the side of the bed, and his peering eyes.

“I knew you were here before you even made a noise.”

The man’s voice makes the brunet stiffen. “Then it took you a while to get here.” He manages, the response comes out dry and cracked, almost immediate. He still manages a witty remark in the face of something terrifying. Really, it’s a defense mechanism.

The man lifts up a blond eyebrow, followed by raising up.

“Come out.” He demands, but Tony stays.

“You’ll kill me.”

“I can kill you right now if I want to.”

Fair point.

Maybe the man wants to watch him as he dies. He'd swiftly decapitate or dismember him... Or maybe he'll make it slow and painful. Torture him with dull objects, leaving Tony to beg for his life to end. The man could skin him alive, or hit him until the pain becomes numbing. Either way there will be blood, pints of blood that’ll soak into the carpet, run into the wood on which he once heard the stomping of black boots.

The man bends over again, letting Tony get a good look at his face. “I ain’t got all day.”

Tony is still shaking, but the man's voice is soothing in the worst of ways, and it jerks him from his obsessive thoughts. He comes from underneath the bed, remembering the shriek from earlier that was possibly his mother.

“Are my parents--?”

“Alive, for now.” He says as if relaying the weather.

Tony feels his blood run cold, there were others that could be hurting his parents, he didn’t even want to think of the various forms of assault. Instead he focuses on the cool toned gun glimmering under the moonlight filtering in through the window.

The gun inspires panic like any gun would if it was threatening his life, but another part of him is curious. He doesn’t exactly know why. A gun only has one purpose, and in this case he's the target, yet he’s still zeroing in on the weapon, as if it’ll show an inch of mercy.

The man is blond, tattoos run up and down both of his arms. Tony’s too afraid to take in the exact images, but he knows they’re there. His face is stern, unyielding, facial hair is there but he’s not sure of the shade. He almost wants to reach out and touch, but finds himself stupid for even letting the thought pass.

The man grabs him by the arm, pulls him forward and runs the gun over his cheek. The gun feels cold, but the man's hands are calloused and warm. Tony lets his eyes fall shut for a moment, sighing not in relief, but with an emotion he’s not able to decipher.

“How old are you?”

Tony swallows thickly. Does his age actually matter in this? If he says he’s sixteen, will the man walk away?

Probably not.

“Nineteen..” he says, and partially curses himself for not lying, mainly because the blond’s response is to grin.

“What’s your name?”

“Tony.”

The man lets out a low rumbling in his chest, as if assessing what he’s just heard. “Tony.” He repeats, and hearing it back sounds foreign and dirty.

The blond presses the tip of the gun against the center of his chest, then drags it down to the hem, lifting slightly. Tony starts breathing heavier again, and when the metal touches his skin he breaks out into a shiver.

The man smirks. “You like the way that feels, huh?”

Tony doesn’t give any indication of either liking or disliking it. He simply stares straight ahead, focusing on the door that’s half open. The man taps the side of his cheek with the back of his hand. “I can make things easier if you do what I say.”

“Y-You didn’t technically tell me to do anything.” His mouth moves faster than his reasoning, but the man seems to like his snark. The blond grabs him and makes it so Tony’s back is against the bigger man’s chest.

He can feel the height difference this way. He can feel hard muscle and overall how much bigger the intruder is. The blond takes one large hand and caresses underneath his shirt. Tony gasps, and doesn’t have time to react before the gun is snaking up shirt as well, rubbing against his nipple while the other is tweaked by the man's free hand.

A wave of emotions courses through Tony, the main one's a tremendous guilt which counteracts how incredibly turned on he is. His knees feel weak, he’s panting heavily and his head is swimming. The man whispers next to his ear. “Steve.” and Tony nods, repeating it the way Steve did with his name.

The brunet can report him. Surely a name wasn’t enough information but it’s something. He got a good look at the blond’s face... Just as these thoughts pop up, they come to a halt, as the gun rubs against his groin leisurely. Tony groans this time, long and lingering. The rubbing picks up and Tony’s completely lost any sort of reasoning. He’s bucking his hips and letting himself lean into anything that’s Steve.

Fear still resides somewhere in the recesses of his mind, but it’s laying down grounds of unpredictability, to put it plainly, he feels so good. He can feel the flush against his cheeks, making its way down his torso.

Steve grips either side of his face with his strong hands, making him look up towards his harsh stare. Fingers dart past his lips. “I wish I had time to tie up those pretty wrists of yours. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Bound and having no choice but to take my cock?”

Tony just nods, images flash through his mind of him being tied to the bedpost, and he’s _keening._ Steve lets out a low chuckle, taking the gun and moving it to the top of his head, leading him down on his knees. He knows what the blond wants. He’s curious about how his denim clad hard on would feel beneath his finger tips so he cops a quick feel.

Steve doesn’t say anything, he merely keeps the tip of his gun pointed at his head. Tony unbuckles his pants, slipping them down and rubbing from outside of his boxers. He pulls out Steve's cock and strokes once, twice, then rests the heavy erection on his lips.

The blond weaves his fingers through Tony’s hair, making it so Tony has no choice but to suck. It makes Tony gag the first time. He moves his mouth off and starts coughing, and Steve allows it, but leads him right back to his dick. This time Tony sucks, tentatively at first, but his sucking grows eager, though he’s sloppy. Drool spills from the side of his mouth, and coats the man’s cock, which Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He steadies Tony a bit and lets out sighs of contentment.

Tony can feel the head of Steve’s cock hit the back of his throat, and he's stuck between gagging and trying to take more. His jaw is beginning to ache, the rug is digging into his knees, the gun placed on his forehead is making him think about how his life could be over at any time, and yet he’s hard, achingly hard.

“Take more.” He commands, running the rough pad of his thumb across Tony’s eye, catching the tear in the corner of it.

Tony complies, whimpering when he feels blunt nails scrape across his scalp. He can feel more of Steve down his throat, and he’s resisting the urge to choke, instead relaxing so Steve's cock slides down easier.

The blond takes the gun and taps it against his cheek. “Up.”

Tony let’s Steve’s cock fall from his mouth. He’s wiping spit from his lips and chin and then gets on his feet.

Steve’s thumb and forefinger tug at his bottom lip before leading him in for a rough kiss. The kiss leaves Tony breathless; it’s too rough and too bruising despite the the false sense of intimacy Steve brings to it by caressing his cheek. Tony still likes it, and he still reaches back up for more, of which the blond denies him.

“Bed. Get on all fours.” Stern tone, but his hand still pretends to comfort him, and for a second Tony’s nuzzling into the warm hand that’s offered. He doesn’t have to look up to know there’s a smirk set on the man’s face.

Tony gets on the bed, on all fours as he was told. The blond shucks down his pajama shorts and smacks his ass once. The brunet whines and lifts his hips, and jolts when cold liquid drips against his entrance. He furrows his brows in confusion. “Lube?”

“Well I’m not cruel.” Steve says, which is the biggest whiff of bullshit he could say, so it has Tony laughing, albeit nervously.

The head of Steve’s cock rubs against his entrance once before pushing in, and Tony lets out a shaky breath as his head falls into the pillow. One of his hands reaches out to grab whatever is nearest, and he’s sure they’re sheets that he’s holding onto for dear life, only that he realizes he’s not that certain, because his eyes are so tightly shut.

Steve’s thrusting in and out, a pounding that’s making the headboard smack against the wall. Momentarily, Tony opens his eyes. He spots a frame that he knows holds a family photo. Suddenly, he feels the waves of guilt come back at full force. he doesn’t even know what’s happening to his parents, meanwhile he’s enjoying the stretch of a thick cock pushing in and out of his hole.

He closes his eyes again, because all he can to do now is focus on the blond man's heavy breathing. Steve holds a vice-like grip onto his hips, nails biting into the sensitive skin that stretches over his hipbones. Steve pistons his hips another angle, one that brushes up against Tony’s prostate.

“Steve!” He calls out, lifting his head and nearly smiling.

Steve let’s out a short laugh, pulling almost all the way out and then thrusting hard back in. The brunet feels his resolve sink away again. He’s not sure if it’s the concept of death being so close, or that a man he’s never met is taking him like a filthy bitch. Either way, it’s beginning to be too much, and just as he thinks he’s no longer able to hang on, Steve pulls his hair.

“How would you feel about me using you countlessly, taking load after load until you’re covered in my come? I’ll use your mouth and your ass, and soon it’ll be all you ever want.”

Tony nods as vigorously as he can in his current state. Steve reaches a hand to pinch his nipples and he moans out. “Please. please, I want it!”

Steve let’s out a low growl followed up by a quiet “I know.”

It doesn’t take long for Tony to come to an orgasm that leaves his body on fire. His chest heaves as it happens, and he bucks his hips into the sheets, messing them up. In his moments of bliss he can feel Steve filling him up, before he delivers another smack to Tony's ass.

Just like that Steve’s gone. After a few minutes of catching his breath, he hears his house door slam shut. Tony lifts himself weakly and pulls on his pants before heading downstairs. He finds his parents passed out and tied to a chair, but as he begins to untie them, his father is the first to wake up.

“W-What happened-- Tony are you alright?! Did you see them they--” His voice falls as Tony's mother joins in the panic.

Tony waves his hand. “I just woke up. I didn’t hear anything but a door shut.” He’s thankful that his nervousness makes it seem as if he’s scared for them and not for what he’s done.

He could tell them the man’s name. The image of his face is still burned in his retinas, but he only nods when his mother says.

“I’m just glad you’re alright.”

And he goes along with his father plan to have the police search their house. Even as the come drips down his thighs, he keeps his mouth shut.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
